Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from New Zealand and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Skarface to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ten City,
Pantaleimon,
48th St. Collective,
Camouflage,
Ponytail,
Fad Gadget,
Aloha Tigers,
Yusef Lateef,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Skriet,
Porter Ricks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Young Marble Giants,
Shoche,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Holt,
Cluster,
Robert Hood,
Althea and Donna,
Rhythm & Sound,
X-101,
Q and Not U,
One Last Wish,
Babytalk,
The Knickerbockers,
Accadde A,
Metal Thangz,
Wire,
Iggy Pop,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mantronix,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Skatalites,
Roger Hodgson,
Newcleus,
Organ,
Talk Talk,
Avey Tare,
Josef K,
Flash Fearless,
Cheater Slicks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Gap Band,
Electric Prunes,
Fluxion,
Tim Buckley,
Marmalade,
Half Japanese,
Rapeman,
Jandek,
Jacques Brel,
Groovy Waters,
Pere Ubu,
E-Dancer,
Fatback Band,
The Misunderstood,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.